Hello! I'm sorry this took a while to update... I was so busy the past few weeks that I couldn't find the time to write. So now of course I'm posting a long chapter to make up for it.
Thank you so much for reading this and for leaving such wonderful reviews. They are all really humbling and heartwarming, and I appreciate each and every single one :)
The Audition
A look of confusion crosses Naomi's face as she grasped for the words that would put everything neatly away. She bites her lip and pouts when she discovers there were none.
"Emily..." she starts, but nothing else followed, or at least nothing she could say out loud. Much to her disappointment her razor sharp wit and heavily barbed tact had gone. They had somewhat been dulled by the alcohol coursing through her veins and the fresh memory of Emily's lips pressing wonderfully across her throat, then to her collar bone leading down to her shoulder. She had to admit it made for a deadly combination. Her usual, calm resolve has now been replaced by uncontrollable shaking, and a ceaseless fluttering in the pit of her stomach. It was very frustrating to say the least.
"What have you done to me?" she shakes her head and stares at Emily accusingly.
Instead of taking it badly Emily laughs— and really she expects Naomi to start laughing too, waits for one those random burst of giggles to arrive, the kind which they break into hysterically for no particular reason. Instead, she feels Naomi's palm resting on her jaw, curling her fingers around the back of her neck and using her thumb to hold her still.
Emily stops laughing.
With a very determined look, Naomi calmly tilts her face up, pulls her closer and kisses her. She was exact about it, methodical almost— she starts slowly, working her lips against Emily's, coaxing her mouth to open ever so slightly with a few languid motions. And then Emily was pushing back, not even trying to resist, as she opens her mouth completely and tangles her breath with Naomi's, who tasted just like the wine she drank, sanguine and sweet, delectable.
All of a sudden Naomi lets out a whimper and shoves Emily unintentionally rough against the cushions. While on top, she became aware of how small Emily's frame was. Something took over her then; an urge she couldn't quite handle. She twists her hand on Emily's shirt, grabbing a fistful of the fabric at the hem and runs her fingers across Emily's hip bone. It was small and delicate just like everything else about Emily and the small act causes her to nip at Naomi's lower lip harder than she usually would. They continue for a few minutes more until Naomi finally pulls away.
"There," she said, her breath hot on Emily's ear.
Emily blinks at her, stunned. Naomi's hand, she realizes was still on her jaw, and as the thumb moved, grazing across her cheekbones, Emily hears Naomi's breath hitch. It causes an involuntary shiver to course run down her spine. This was getting out of hand.
"Naoms," she says softly while resting their foreheads together. Their lips were close, hovering only mere centimetres apart, both of them panting from the lack of oxygen, "You know I'm all for this," her eyes focused on Naomi's lips before slowly sweeping down her body, "but if you don't stop with all this hot-and-cold nonsense, I may have to kill you."
Naomi snorts before she can help herself, and says "I'd like to see you try."
"Okay." Emily replies slyly, her hands moving under Naomi's top, deftly grasping at the hem and tugging it upward and off. Naomi giggles and tries to pry Emily's hands away but ultimately lets them linger on her skin, not one trace of hesitation on her face. She wraps her arms around Emily and presses their lips together, pulling her closer, their bodies sinking into the couch.
"Are you sure?" Emily asks as politely as she can while straddling Naomi's hips.
Naomi just nods wordlessly. She glances up to see Emily smile one last time before she lowered herself a little closer. She reaches out to run her fingers through Emily's hair and lets out a sigh as the strands twists into loose red waves.
They exchanged smiles for a second and then she was cradling Emily's face in her hands, kissing her softly, her thumbs stroking Emily's cheeks. Naomi decides right then to surrender herself completely, reassures herself silently that she could always fight again tomorrow.
It was the soundest choice she's made in ages.
When Naomi wakes up she heads for the kitchen. She cooks breakfast at three in the afternoon, much to Emily's amusement.
"What are we having?" Emily asks, pouring orange juice into a glass, in just her bra and knickers. With a little effort she manages to stand on her tippy toes without spilling a single drop, and then kisses Naomi's nape as a form of greeting. It causes her breath to snag for a second but somehow she manages to wink at Emily all the same.
"Bacon, eggs, toast..." She says as she grabs the glass from Emily and takes a sip.
"Can I help?"
Naomi bites her lip as she takes in Emily's disheveled form. She considers the idea for a moment before ultimately sending her away. This was partly because she didn't need any help, but mostly because Emily was barely dressed, and it was absolutely distracting.
By the time Emily reappears in pyjama bottoms and a tight tank top, the kitchen was already filled with the inviting smell of butter and coffee. She smiles, not because of the food or the fact that someone was cooking for her, but because and purely because it was Naomi.
She walks over just as the eggs were being set down on the counter and kisses Naomi thoroughly. It was soft, but self-assured and she feels Naomi's tall, slender frame relax into her arms. Emily kisses her once, then again, grazing her bottom lip briefly before finally letting their tongues meet. Naomi's hands grab onto her hair pulling her closer and closer, pushing them further and further backwards until Emily is left with no choice but to grab onto the edges of the kitchen counter.
As soon as they pull apart Naomi feels light headed. She licks her lips, "What was that for?"
"Nothing... just wanted to say good afternoon."
"G-good afternoon?" She repeats dumbly. The whole thing leaves her flustered; an uncharacteristic girlish laugh escaping her lips. She takes a step back, all flushed and smiling. Unable to come up with anything coherent to say she goes back to preparing the food.
Emily felt a jolt rushing through hefr body, a high like other. Naomi was now a happy little mess because of what had just happened; all giddy and incapable of stringing together two syllables, and she, Emily Fitch was responsible for it!
In the background she heard something searing, and then crackle before the smell of bacon wafted in the air.
Emily felt ecstatic as she watched Naomi move about, she was so happy in fact that she wanted to dance around the room like a bloody caveman. It made her feel invincible somehow, this power— it turned her on.
Suddenly a brief image of Naomi writhing beneath her flashes uncontrollably through her mind, igniting sparks that shot to her fingertips and all the way to her toes. It makes her knees wobble and she tightens her grip on the kitchen counter just to keep from falling over.
They ate together in silence, smiling and not really caring about much else. Everything felt familiar somehow, like they've done this sort of thing a dozen times before. It's probably really idiotic, but it feels like home to Emily. She can't quite figure out why exactly, but it does.
The next few days were pure bliss. Life all of a sudden seemed exciting somehow. It was nothing big in particular but rather little, normal, everyday things. Getting out of bed. Getting dressed. Having breakfast. Brushing teeth— It all seemed new in a way.
Sometimes Emily finds herself thinking how beautiful the sky is even though it was impossibly cloudy out, or that it was the perfect time to take a stroll even though it was raining dreadfully. Nothing got to her really. A tornado could pass by her house right this instant and she'd still think everything was lovely.
It has gotten to the point where she was afraid that Naomi might say "Good morning," and she answers with "I love you."
She swears sometimes that Naomi wants to say it too, but of course she never does.
"What would you do if somebody literally broke your heart?" They were sitting across from each other one sunny afternoon; Emily sipping tea, legs crossed as Naomi shot the question.
"Literally broke it? I don't even think that's possible."
Naomi thought about it and realized that Emily had a point. Hearts weren't made of glass; they don't actually shatter, and turn into tiny shards for someone to pick up and fuse back together. Hearts are dense, fibrous and probably sturdy from pumping all that blood in and out of one's system.
"Tore then." She says, rolling her eyes as she corrected herself.
The absurdity of the whole thing made Emily laugh despite her best efforts to stay focused. She knew Naomi still wanted an answer, and when she finally manages to calm herself down she sees those blue eyes staring right at her, waiting expectantly.
She looks away for a moment and scratches her head as if the answer would arrive faster if she did.
"I would…" she begins, before cutting her sentence short and letting her thoughts trail off; she bites her lip and tries again. This was one of the things Naomi loved best about Emily; she always did her best to answer, regardless of how bizarre or utterly stupid the question turned out to be.
"I suppose I would probably do my best to stitch it back together. Or freeze it…"
"But then it wouldn't work properly."
"What?"
"Your heart… If you freeze it, you'd have to keep it frozen to keep it from falling apart."
"Exactly."
Before Naomi can stop herself, she had fallen. It was inevitable really but still...
In her mind she pictures standing at the mouth of a cliff somewhere, with sharp, ominous rocks waiting for her below. She knows what is there but she takes a step forward anyway.
A deep sigh escapes her, and her lungs inflate. She tries to shake the dread away because it couldn't be, just simply couldn't, and for a while she is fine, she regains control. She grabs her jacket, and her over-sized bag, rummages inside to check for her keys. But on her way out she catches a glimpse of herself— a faint reflection on the window staring plainly back at her—she couldn't quite believe what she sees.
She bites the inside of her cheek, and inhales sharply.
"Christ." She mutters, but she walks out the door all the same.
She remembers pretending that she wasn't looking the first time she saw Emily. She was very careful about it, making sure that her eyes didn't linger too long and that her face showed as little interest as possible.
She heard there were twins in her year. Heard the name Fitch floating around when they were calling the rolls during assembly.
When they introduced themselves for the first time in class, her eyes barely glanced up to see red hair and a small, compact frame accompanying it and that was all really. It took perhaps just a second or two, nothing more.
And yet she could remember the white blouse Emily wore, and the red dotted pattern which matched her hair. She wore it under a grey cardigan with a matching skirt. And her shoes were ballet flats; they were a black.
But of course, she wasn't looking. Not really.
And then a thought pops into her head: Love at first sight.
It was one of the few things she and Emily agreed on completely. It didn't exist. There was just no way. It's not supposed to be possible because a person can't just look at someone and feel something as rich and complicated as love, at least not yet. Not at first.
But the more Naomi thought about it, the more she understood that these sorts of things work in mysterious ways, like when you look at a person you feel this pull... this magnetism. It is more than mere attraction or lust, it went beyond that.
It's this feeling of knowing the person is different from the rest. Like knowing that it's not a spark but a blaze, or like running as far away as humanly possible but ending up in the same place. That's what she felt the first time she saw Emily. (Or didn't see... Whatever.)
One of life's worst ironies is that the heart doesn't care.
It isn't concerned about self-preservation or saving face. It just beats despite your best efforts to make it slow or stop.
The heart never listens, even if you tell it to… Even if you pleaded, begged and bribed… Not even if you screamed at the top your lungs, not even if you whispered under your breath.
Never.
'You don't love her,' Naomi informs herself. It was about 4:30 in the morning and she was sitting alone in the kitchen with her coffee untouched.
A strange silence settles around her. It gave her a better chance to think… and it didn't take too long for her to realize that she hated it.
She sighs into her coffee. Today, she woke up so early it scared her. She wasn't exactly what you'd call a morning person, much less a dawn person, but she couldn't coax herself back to sleep. She couldn't shake the feeling away.
"You don't love her," she repeats. But the heart never listens. Her heart never did. In fact it was stubborn, most good hearts are. They never grasp the logical; they cling onto anything which makes them beat. Her heart in particular was clutching onto Emily, with no sign of letting go.
The next two days of rehearsal were grueling. Effy makes them do scene after scene demanding nothing short of perfection.
"Tilt your head to the right Josh." She says critically, as if she were instructing him to move furniture.
"Should I hold her hip or should I—"
"Yeah, yeah, that's good. You should hold her hip." Effy agreed before scribbling it down. Josh does as he is told and pulls Emily closer, his hand resting on her right hip.
"Remember not to lean into it so much this time, okay? The audience can't see Emily's face if you do."
"Right." He shoots Emily an apologetic glance before mumbling the instructions back to himself.
Emily couldn't help but think how stupid this was, how technicality can take away the beauty in the most breathtaking of things, even something as wonderful as a kiss.
"Do you still need me for anything?" Naomi asks just as Josh stepped closer, blocking Emily's line of sight.
Effy looks at Naomi expressionless, "No, you can go."
"Great."
Emily blinks rapidly as she watched Naomi wave goodbye.
"Problem?" Effy asks her, quirking an eyebrow.
"No, nothing."
"You seem distracted."
"I'm fine Effy," she says not really bothering to hide the strain in her voice, her eyes still fixed on Naomi's retreating form as she disappeared slowly from view.
They don't talk about it, although Emily was certainly dying to. She figures after a while that it was all in her mind. That maybe she had made a big deal out of something that was actually nothing... that it was probably just a simple case of Naomi being tired and worn out, and perhaps she wasn't really trying to run away. What mattered was they were together right now, resting contentedly in Naomi's bed, their arms and legs tangled together lazily.
Emily looked around, she loved Naomi's bedroom. She loved the walls and rug on the floor, loved the curtains and the lights strung over the window. It fascinated her how everything spoke about Naomi, like every poster, every picture, and every book clued her in to the kind of person she really was. Emily found herself smiling, little by little she was beginning to understand.
Beneath the sheets she wrapped her arms around Naomi's waist, kisses her neck gently and silently wished that it will never end.
"You're still going to kiss him aren't you?" Naomi asks conversationally as she props herself up on her elbow.
Emily looked at her wondering what was racing through her mind. She sighs and sits by the edge of the bed; it was time to get up.
"Well," she bent down to reach for her top, "I have to Naoms."
"No you don't."
"What?"
"I mean, you could always back out of the play..."
Emily raised an eyebrow, ready to unleash a witty quip but holds it back at the last second when she realizes that Naomi was seriously suggesting this.
"You want me to?"
"No, of course not... I— I dunno." She sighs, "Forget it."
Naomi coughs to clear her head. Out of habit she brushes her nose with her fingertips before standing up and searching for something to wear on the messy floor. She spends at least half an hour cursing herself for being such a jealous prick, and spends at least another vowing never to do it again. But the funny thing was Emily would have done it for her— gladly even, if only she had asked.
It's human nature to doubt human nature when we're happy. Things just don't work out. It does for a while, and then it's lost. Effy made them write it down during rehearsals that afternoon.
She could still remember the look on Emily's face when it happened, warm brown eyes begging her not to believe.
They talk about it on the way home, "Don't look at me like that."
"Like what?" Emily challenges.
Naomi let out a something that closely resembled a laugh if only it didn't sound so pained. "I think Effy's right."
"Well, I thought it was a bunch of rubbish." Emily huffed while kicking a small rock that happened to be in the way. Naomi squeezed her hand without Emily squeezing back.
"Well, it's natural to meet people, and to lose them. Even if you stay together for a very long time, death takes the person away."
Naomi knew she sounded dark and pessimistic right then, but it was the truth. It was something Emily needed to hear.
"Nothing ever lasts forever. Not our minds, our hearts or our bodies. We decay. We're decaying right this moment." She feels Emily's fingers trying to wiggle out of her grasp. Somehow she had hit a nerve and she had no idea how to fix it.
"Well that's fucking fantastic isn't it?"
"Em... please don't—"
"You don't believe in forever?"
"No."
"No exceptions?"
"None."
"What about feelings? Do you believe in those?"
"Of course I believe in feelings—"
"Do you believe in love?"
Naomi didn't know what to say to that one. Her first thought was, 'No, I don't', but that wasn't true. She thought it was possible, yes, yet she was so cynical she didn't believe that it happened much. That was her problem, she took love too seriously and too lightly all in the same breath.
People say it too much. 'I love you' slips past their lips and their thoughts too easily. But then she gets to the part where she contradicts herself, as she so often did these days.
The truth was she fell in love easily. Not with human beings of course, but she fell in love with simple things, like for instance a character in a book, or a beautiful line from a poem, a noble cause, a good conversation, or the twinkling of stars at night, and the feeling she got whenever she rode a bicycle, the wind blowing against her face, her hair whipping behind her… She fell in love so often that her head spins and her heart spasms. But this isn't love, is it? Not the kind the Emily was asking about.
Because love— true love— was messy and heavy and consuming... So terrifying that she doesn't think she'll ever allow herself to fall, even if perhaps she already has.
She looked up at Emily, finally, who was starting to look worried from the all the weighty silence and she answers her simply, untruthfully, "I don't know."
There was a beat before Emily says, "I can't do this with you anymore Naomi." And she looks at her with so much sadness that it makes everything seem unbearable. For a moment Emily feels her heart throb and she wonders why it was still there.
With a tug she tries to take her hand back from Naomi. A bright, hot burst of anger prickled through her skin. She had reached her breaking point it seems, and she couldn't take any more. As she moved she is vaguely aware of the fingernails pressing into her skin, trying to keep her in place. It surprises her that just for once Naomi was the one trying to hold on.
Stale air hung above them, a dreadful silence. It was the type of silence which crushed hopes, thwarted dreams. Emily hated silence.
"Please let me go." She pleads, her shoulders falling and her voice shaky.
Naomi did as she was told and said nothing more. She didn't trust herself to speak. She knew if she said one word, the lump in her throat would swell almost as big as her heart and then she'd be crying, sobbing despite herself. But the tears came anyway.
Moments later Naomi was alone. She heard the sound of gravel crunching beneath her feet, and the distant hum of people talking. The streets seemed eerily bare tonight. She was alone, and for the first time the gravity of situation hits her harder than a brick wall.
'I am dreaming', she thought in panic, 'I am dreaming'.
She kept walking unaware of the tears spilling from her eyes. She reassures herself that any minute now she'll wake up safe in her warm bed and everything will be okay.
But even she didn't believe herself. Not anymore.
When Emily awoke she was greeted by a strange empty feeling. It was oddly calm today as streaks of light peaked through her curtains, and stabbed into the room hurting her eyes. She lay there, completely still for a few minutes staring at the ceiling. She wonders if she were ever going to get up at all.
She had cried herself to sleep last night. It hurt to blink, even more painful to breath. Her face was puffy, and her eye sockets felt deformed and waterlogged, as though any minute now her eyes were going to fall out.
She turns on her side and scrolls through her phone. There was one missed call from Katie, at least 5 from her mother, text messages from Cook and JJ.
And none from...
She sighs and goes back to bed.
They don't see each other until Saturday rehearsals roll by. Emily arrived late but sat next to her anyway. She didn't have much of a choice really since all the other seats were taken; still to Naomi it meant something somehow.
As the minutes tick away she discovers how painful it was... sitting beside someone you desperately wanted to talk to, and the words just hang above you.
It seemed that every moment was the perfect opportunity to say something, to fix what had broken, to undo the damage that had been done... until finally the other person gets up, looks at you and walks away.
It was all fucked up, her life.
She's been a real bitch lately. It used to be all pretend but now even she hated herself. Today she got into an argument with her mother, had heated disagreements with random people at the grocers and managed to make one of the house borders cry. It wasn't really their fault. She was the problem. The annoyance that she felt for them was really just the annoyance that she felt for herself.
She wished she could start over from scratch. It would have been wonderful if she could just take her bones and flesh and create someone completely different. Lately she hated the words that spew from her mouth, sometimes too harsh that even she was surprised by the scars they left behind.
She realized that she couldn't be with anyone. No one would take her. No matter how many times she reconstructed herself, she'll never be the type of person who was meant for someone else... especially not someone as wonderful as Emily.
When Cook takes Emily out dancing he doesn't ask questions. He just shoots her a worried glance as she gulps down what seemed like her tenth drink and moves clumsily towards the bar to get her eleventh.
"Whoa..." he says, blocking the way, "let's go Emilio."
"One more." she slurs, a determined look plastered on her face.
"I don't think you need any more."
"You said we were going to party!"
"Oh we've partied alright," he says as if he were talking to a five year old child, it was funny really, coming from him, but Emily wasn't laughing. She didn't have time to react actually because Cook was literally dragging her out of her club. In an attempt to put up a fight she curled her toes into her shoes and tried to keep her feet firmly on the floor, but it in the end it was all in vain.
"Come on," he says anxiously, "JJ's already outside."
By the time Emily wakes up she barely remembers the night before. She groans into a pillow and regrets it almost immediately. Her eyes refused to open, the lids seemingly stapled shut. She tries to swallow but she realizes that her mouth was incredibly dry; suddenly she gets the very distinct feeling that if she so much as breathed, she will, undoubtedly throw up.
Five minutes later she found herself hunched over a marble bowl, hurling everything she drank last night, and she thinks, perhaps some of her intestines as well.
"You okay?" Cook asks with a tilt of his head.
She nods and groans inwardly."I feel like shite."
"You'll feel better, don't fret." He walks over and awkwardly pats her back. He sits there patiently, waiting before she feels well enough to stand; he flushes the bowl, pulls her up to her feet and guides her near the tub telling her to hold on. Emily feels lucky to see this side of Cook, so sweet, so gentle, so caring—
"Don't look babes; I'm going to take a piss."
"What are you doing?" Naomi mumbles to herself as she approached the door. She stood there for a second, wondering if this was the right thing to do, then takes a deep breath and knocks.
"Hi."
"Naomi?"
"Effy said you were sick." She explains awkwardly, unable to look Emily in the eye.
"She did?" she asked sniffling. Apparently her hangover turned into a cold, which three hours later magically transformed into a fever.
Naomi merely nods. She rolls her eyes as if it were the most painful thing to say what she was about to say next, "I had to run lines with Alexa."
When she hears Emily laugh she realizes how much she's missed it.
"I brought you food." She holds a paper bag close to Emily's face and hopes it was enough to make Emily feel like inviting her in.
"Thank you." She cracks the door open and motions for Naomi to follow her.
"What are you wearing?" Naomi laughs despite herself. Like watching fainting goats or polar bears slip off the ice. She couldn't help it. Emily was walking around the house with a blanket wrapped around her, so long that it looked like a cape.
"I got cold okay?" Emily said rather defensively, her face turning red as she pulled the blanket around herself more tightly.
Naomi watches as Emily flops herself down on the couch and sets the food on the coffee table. She sits beside her reluctantly, and pours herself a glass of what looked like lemonade.
"You're not going to like that," Emily warns trying to grab the drink away from her. When Naomi ignores this she adds, "Trust me."
"It's just a drink, Emily," Naomi murmurs, taking a sip, "how bad could it possibly—oh Christ, that's repulsive!"
Emily laughs as Naomi wipes her lips with her sleeve, a disgusted expression on her face as she glares down at the glass like it's betrayed her.
"What the hell is that?" she shudders, "Ugh, it's like someone mixed grape fruit juice with raw eggs and rat poison—"
"Oh it's not that bad," Emily says, taking the glass from her. "Cook made it; it's supposed to cure hangovers."
And then, just because she can, she smirks and downs the entire glass, swallowing with one gulp.
"How can you drink that?" Naomi asks looking stunned and horrified. Emily shrugs.
"Practice?" she offers. "I've been drinking it a lot lately."
"Oh." Naomi takes a deep breath as a sharp surge of guilt washes over her. She rolls her shoulders back uncomfortably and says something she meant to say sooner, "I'm really sorry Em."
"I know."
When Emily wakes up it was already dark. She stretches slightly and discovers that her face was now pressed against a pillow, and her body was wrapped in a blanket much thicker than the one she had before. She grins but couldn't quite recall bringing it downstairs with her.
"You're up?" She hears Naomi say, her voice gentle and soft.
"How long was I out?" She sits up wearily and feels her body sway a little.
"A couple hours. How do you feel?"
"Horrible," she admits. "But slightly better, I suppose."
"Your fever's gone down a little," Naomi replies, quirking a faint smile.
"Naoms?"
"Yes?"
"Can you stay a little longer?"
"Sure."
The truth was all she wanted was someone who can sit her down, shut her up, tell her things she didn't already know, and make her laugh. It was very simple. She didn't really care about much else. All she knew was that when she found someone who could do that, she would gladly walk on bloody stumps through the snow, cross the Sahara Dessert barefoot, dive off an airplane a hundred feet off the ground, sweep the floor, wash the dishes, and do the windows too... anything. She would even listen, she would actually care about someone else's feelings for once.
"You have freckles on the back of your neck," Emily informs her, resisting the urge to trace her fingers along Naomi's skin.
"I'm so glad I know that vital piece information now," Naomi replied dryly. And though she was facing away, Emily could tell from her tone that she had just rolled her eyes.
"But you could have gone through your whole life not knowing. You can't see the back of your neck."
"I could have asked someone or taken a picture... "
"But would you have? Would you even have wondered?"
"Probably not," She admits as she turns to face Emily.
"But now you know. Now you know a little bit more about yourself."
"Well.." and that's when she blurted it out... "I love you."
"I love you too."